


The Cycle

by WhatAboutAngels



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 16:31:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5382242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatAboutAngels/pseuds/WhatAboutAngels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire's art is being exhibited, and he went alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cycle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mercutios](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercutios/gifts).



Grantaire stood in the middle of the crowd, glancing half-drunkenly through the faces. He could still feel the clap of Courfeyrac’s hand on his shoulder, Jehan’s kiss on his cheek, see Ferre’s approving smile. And he appreciated those things. Who wouldn’t? His friends had all come tonight to see his success, something he was actually proud of for once. Still, with nearly the entire group here, it only served to emphasize who was missing.

They’d fought again. That was nothing new. None of the others would be surprised if he told them. But the fighting led to not communicating, and the not communicating led to things getting brushed off, and this had fallen through the cracks. He’d said he had work to do. Grantaire said that it wasn’t a big deal anyways. Because it wasn’t. The exhibit wasn’t huge, just a little university thing. Still, he wished his boyfriend could take enough time off to come.

At this point, Grantaire couldn’t even remember what the fight was about. That wasn’t odd. Typically, the high emotional tension on top of a few drinks would do that to a man. But it was apparently bad enough that Enj had been back to giving him the cold shoulder for a few days. He would forget it eventually – he always did – but, until then, R was on his own.

He had approached Enj tentatively about the exhibition, sliding an invitation onto the desk beside him. “It’s just a small thing,” he started, but was cut off part way through without the blond ever looking at the invite.

“I have work, Grantaire.”  
                “I mean, it’s at night, so I figured after you were done…”  
                “Just because I’m at home doesn’t mean I’m not working. Maybe another time.” And that had been the end of that.

Honestly, he shouldn’t care that much. His work was shit anyways. The exhibition was nice, but they did one for nearly every student that came through the school. Where was the pride in doing something nearly every other person like him had done? It would be over soon. A two day thing, and then he wouldn’t have to think about it again. Enjolras had probably already forgotten about it, too, so it shouldn’t be too hard to join him.

But, that was the thing. He was still holding out a glimmer of hope. Maybe Enjolras would walk through the door, apologize for being late. He would laugh with Courfeyrac, discuss things with Ferre, and make a few comments about the next planned event to Feuilly. He didn’t even have to talk to Grantaire if he didn’t want to. He’d gone out of his way to show up for the event, and that would be all that mattered.

But of course he didn’t. When Enj got caught up in the work, nothing could pull him out of it besides maybe Combeferre on a better day. He would sit at his laptop for hours, never coming to bed, all of his focus on whatever was happening on his screen. Articles and speeches didn’t write themselves. Never mind the fact that he had an English major in the group that would be happy to help him out. Enj had to do it himself, or it wasn’t enough. That’s just how it worked. No matter How fucking stupid it was.

 The only way R had any chance at all of distracting him long enough for more than a few words to be exchanged was to get drunk and hurl insults at him until he rose to the bait and yelled back. The screaming match would last for up to an hour, and then R would be passed out on the couch while Enjolras headed upstairs to the office. The cycle would repeat again. R would start a fight, the argument would last for up to an hour, he woudln’t remember what about, and Enj wouldn’t speak to him until he either waited it out or forced him to give him attention. He would try to wait. He always did.

Eventually, after everything was cleaned up for the night, R walked back to their apartment, heading straight for the fridge. Waiting had never been his strong suit.


End file.
